


Stay At the Table

by Xnotashamed



Category: Quack Pack (Cartoon 1996)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26684635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xnotashamed/pseuds/Xnotashamed
Summary: The boys have always wanted to meet their mom. It's only fair, right?Disclaimer: I wrote this from the characters' point of views. I do not condone making people feel guilty for not wanting to meet their children. Not everyone wants children and that is totally valid.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Stay At the Table

Grand openings of everything from small cafes to skyscraper sized industries were covered on the What in the World tv series. Donald and Daisy were more than pleased whenever they were given an assignment where they wouldn’t have to be forced to work alongside Kent Powers. So, naturally, when this story was offered Daisy jumped on it. She had told her boyfriend in excitement that they wouldn’t have to work in cahoots with their egotistical and vain boss on this story. Surprisingly, he was all but thrilled at the mention of what the story was to be.

Donald didn’t want to explain himself or why he demanded that his nephews stayed home for this news story, but he put his foot down. That is, until Huey started a small fire in the bathroom with his hairdryer. This left the older duck nervous and desperate to not leave them home alone. As the night drew nearer and Donald could no longer evade the questions, he permitted his boys to come along. “You have to sit at the table the entire time. I don’t want you mingling or walking around,” he had ruled as the boys slipped on their suits and knotted their ties. The gala was for the grand opening of a new high-end technology company in Duckburg. Black tie was encouraged.

Upon arriving, Donald shifted from one foot to the other and played with his hands. The boys noticed but knew asking would do nothing. At least, it hadn’t every other time they had tried. Though, the trio was sure that their uncle had let Daisy in on what was bothering him because she had stopped hounding him and seemed just as nervous as he.

Donald led the teens to a table with “WHAT IN THE WORLD PRESS” written on a folded card and told them to sit. “You can order some drinks if you want, but I don’t want you three leaving this table. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” The trio responded in monotoned unison.

“It’s not like that’s the first time you told us that tonight,” Huey said rolling his eyes and slinging an arm over the back of his chair.

“Or this week,” Louie mumbled as he dropped his chin into his folded arms.

Dropping his camera case under the table and glancing at his nephews with a look of warning, Donald followed Daisy in approaching one of the many people they were going to interview that night amidst the mass of people.

Glancing at his wrist watch, Louie noticed the time to be 8:07pm. The party started at seven, though with their uncle’s nerves, the family left the house late and hadn’t gotten through the affair’s doors until nearing eight.

“What gives? Uncle D takes us on trips to jungles, deserts, and the like, yet he’s never been this worried about us sitting still,” Huey blurted out after a long few minutes of silence.

“Maybe there is a secret agent after us,” Louie hummed as he kicked his feet childishly. His head still on his arms, “and she’s gonna cart us off to some secret island if she catches us.”

“Maybe it’s an assassin,” Dewey added comically, “maybe he expects us to be in the crowd so Uncle D hid us in plain sight.”

Huey stopped a waiter and the trio put in an order of three sodas. Louie specifically asked for no straw. When the man took his leave, the oldest brother faced the other boys again. “This stinks. There aren’t even any kids our age, let alone any girls. If we’re gonna be under table arrest we could’ve at least gone to at a party with someone to ogle. All these people are “old and proper,” Huey ended with a half attempt to a British accent.

“Pardon me, madam, but young Hubert here wants to lay eyes upon your chest,” Louie added with his own attempt at an accent as he sat up in his chair.

“And do I dare ask to request at minimum, one firm squeeze as well?” Huey held his hand out slowly gripping the air with his words.

Dewey was giggling as the waiter returned and placed a glass of soda in front of each duck. With nothing more to add and the conversation over, the brothers fell in to a comfortable yet boring silence once again. Huey held his straw in his teeth, shrugging off his ecofriendly brother’s glare as he took his first sip.

Stretching, Dewey took to scanning the crowd. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of his uncle. There were people of many species all donned in similar outfits conversing and flaunting about. People of upper midclass and higher were in attendance. The blur of faces making Dewey feel out of place and uninvited whilst making him dizzy. His eyes locked on one duck in particular. She was no taller than Donald or Daisy without her three-inch heels, and was standing along side what appeared to be a group of white-collar employees. Probably celebrating their news jobs made possible by the opening of what ever this company was called. Dewey had actually not paid attention to what the grand opening was even for. He was more worried about why his uncle was acting so off.

The curious boy stood from his chair, trying to see past the people almost constantly walking in his line of sight, most of whom were much taller than himself. He couldn’t kick the thought that this woman looked incredibly familiar and only, as the seconds past, did it hit him.

He couldn’t be sure it was her though, he’d only seen her in pictures.

The boy could feel his heart racing. There had to be a mistake. He must be seeing things. Hairspray and perfume polluted the air, perhaps he was hallucinating the vaguely familiar face. He did feel pretty dizzy. Maybe he should sit back down, maybe he should approach her. Maybe he should-

“Dew, Whatcha’ staring at so intensely?” Huey smacked Dewey’s back bringing him back to reality. Back to where he was and what was going on.

The teen sat down still watching the crowd disperse and conjoin like one of the amoebas he’d seen on the videos in science class. “I wasn’t staring.” Though, despite his words, Dewey’s eyes stayed where he could still see the duck through slivers of space when the people shuffled about. “It’s no one, I mean nothing.”

“Woah woah, who is it? Is she hot? Is that why you were so out of it? Were you fantasizing?” Huey asked wiggling his brows at his immediately younger brother who turned a deep shade under his feathers in disgust. Craning his neck, the curious older boy looked around through the crowd trying to get a glance at what could be stealing Dewey’s attention so fiercely. “Well, I only see primpy middle aged women in long skirts. What gives?”

The silence followed by Huey’s question left a mystery hanging above the brothers, and Louie broke eye contact with his glass that he had been swirling. He looked down at his watch again. 9:28pm.

“Dew, are you alright?” Louie asked as his eyes met his brother.

“Whatever. I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dewey said gesturing towards their approaching uncle. The other boys fell silent and joined in watching Donald’s approach to the table.

“I just need more tape,” Donald said popping open the tape deck and grabbing his case from under the table. He slipped the full tape into the case and grabbed out a new one. After loading the camera once again, Donald put the case under the table and looked at his nephews. “We have one more interview back stage, and then we can head home. Just, make sure you stay at the-“

“-table. We know,” The trio interrupted irritably. Donald nodded his head and made his way back into the mass of people.

Dewey dropped his head into his arms as Louie had earlier, and sighed outwardly. “So, are you gonna tell us now, Ace?” Huey mocked as he leaned in towards his brother. “Or do you “not wanna talk about it” still.”

“Fine,” slamming his hands on the table, Dewey stood again to find the duck in question. What met his eyes was the woman and Donald arguing as Daisy tried to pull her angry boyfriend away. The trio were too far away to hear what was being said but a near muffled sound of their uncle’s exasperated cry met their ears. At that both other boys stood wanting to see what was going on. “Look,” pointing a finger, the middle child continued, “doesn’t she look familiar.”

It only took a few seconds before each of the other two saw who was being pointed out. Her face still red from her altercation left Dewey more assured of who he guessed her to be.

“It’s just a coincidence,” Louie spoke up after minutes passed. “It’s not her Dew,” but even he could hear the lie in his own voice.

“If you think that’s our mom, you are crazy,” Huey added, just as unbelievingly as his brother’s statement. All three boys were staring and it had to be odd for the people witnessing.

Without another thought, Dewey pushed himself away from the table. Donald’s instructions being erased from his mind as he tumbled through the brigade of elites. With his brothers at his heels, the boy broke through the suffocating gathering of people. Almost falling to the floor as he tripped on someone’s foot in his hurry, Dewey stopped directly behind who he was looking for. She was deep in conversation and her laugh fueled the boy to do what he so desperately wanted to. He looked over his shoulder eyeing the backstage door and noting it still being untouched from the inside, Dewey knew they were off the hook for now. No Donald. No Daisy. There was nothing to lose. He glanced once more at his brothers before turning back around.

Swallowing hard, the boy lightly tapped the woman’s arm with shaky hands. His legs felt wobbly as he waited for her to turn around and seeing her face him left no doubt in his mind who this was. He had recognized her from coffee stained pictures that Donald had kept in the garage. Of course, she was much younger in those. His heart was racing and his thoughts were jumbled as her eyes met his. Seeing the pack of boys lined up behind her, she cocked an eyebrow.

“I-I’m Dewey, a-and these are my brothers-“ The eager boy was cut off when the duck before him groaned and threw her arms up.

“I told him I had no interest in meeting you. I thought I made that clear many times. So, what does he go and do? Sends you to me anyway.” Dewey stepped back in shock, once again almost losing his balance as he tripped on his brothers.

“Della? What’s wrong?” The other woman peeked around to see who had upset her, again.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s no one important,” She spat spinning back to continue her conversation.

Dewey’s face burned. His neck, shoulders, chest… everything felt like it was burning straight through to his core. Was it from embarrassment? Rejection? Anger? Utter devastation? He wasn’t sure, but the knot in his stomach was tight and his throat was dry. His eyes were stinging as he felt his younger brother tug him by the sleeve and lead him away. His heart was physically sore and he could all but count the pieces it had been smashed into. He felt like the breath had been stolen from him. He felt like every eye was on him in the building. People judging the orphan boys who just wanted to meet their mom. Nothing more.

Swallowing his pride and emotions the best he could, Dewey looked up only to be greeted with a contorted face on his uncle. Donald was standing in the backstage door’s entrance, holding the door knob in a white-knuckle grip. Daisy was next to him, her face plastered with what was unmistakably pity. The eyes on him from the two in the door felt like they were drilling holes in his head and he wanted nothing more than to die on the spot. Confused and angry, Dewey ripped his arm away from Louie and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Boys, I told you to stay at the table.” Donald was nearly whispering but with the way he was rasping, he may have just spoken it. The trio looked at the floor as their feet dragged against the solid tile. “Boys, I-“

“Save it. Let’s just get outta here,” Huey interrupted as he kicked his foot at nothing. The boys stomped their way towards the door. No concern to whether their uncle was following or not.

The car ride was entirely too quiet. No one offered any words or explanations as Donald fumed in the front seat. The brakes squeaked loudly as the car stopped in front of Daisy’s house. She whispered something to Donald before kissing him goodbye. Probably just telling him to take it easy. “I love all of you, alright? Take care guys,” Daisy said before shutting the door and waving them off.

The boys were out of the car almost before it was even put in park. They were in their room before their uncle even got into the front door. He felt like he was walking on glass as he turned the lock with a soft click.

Donald was angry. He was way angrier than he had expected and was worried that he was going to take it out on his nephews. But dang it, why hadn’t they stayed at the table! He knew this would happen, but what was he supposed to do? He marched into his own bedroom and slammed the door shut. His face was growing a dark shade of red at the resentment he had for his sister. His fists were in balls and he punched the wall a fair few times. Large holes crumbled into the dry wall as his finger tips left marks on his palms. He flopped to his back on his bed, exasperated, and pulled painfully at his hair.

He had known Della would be there. He HADN’T known that the boys could recognize her out of a sea of blurry faces. He knew that they would be more than eager to finally meet her, but he also knew that she had no interest in being in their lives. That’s how it had always been. She had always stayed away so why did they have to recognize her the one single time they were anywhere near each other. The twins had fought for years on end about whether Della should meet the boys. Donald had stopped trying when the boys were nine or so. He figured that he had tried for a decade and she still hadn’t changed her mind, so if she did eventually want to be with them, it would be up to her to reach out. Now the boys were only weeks away from turning sixteen and she still hadn’t given so much as a phone call. She blatantly refused to meet them to not only Donald, but now to the kids themselves! He had argued with her at the party. Begged her to go tell the boys “Hi” just so he would never ask her to do so again. She was so stubborn that she wouldn’t even give the kids a two-letter word. Granted, he didn’t know if it would have been good for her to say “hi” and then run.

Donald ripped his pillow in half and watched with brows furrowed as the feathers floated slowly and peacefully to the ground, his bed, and his beak. He wasn’t sure what Della had actually said to the kids, but obviously it had been rude and abrupt. She never really was one for manners. She liked to play by her own rules.

The still fuming duck rolled to his side as he stared at his alarm clock. He stared for what felt like years. The red lines imprinted on his eyelids and he could read “2:32AM” even when he shut his eyes. The boys, HIS boys didn’t deserve this. They weren’t even supposed to be his! They should have been able to grow up happy and healthy with loving parents that weren’t their angry uncle. It wasn’t some freak accident or even jail time that orphaned his nephews. It was the sheer gut-wrenching stubbornness of his sister not taking responsibilities for her actions. As soon as she found out that she was expecting ducklings, Della talked only of fostering them away. Donald stepped up willing to take the boys in, and to his utter horror, Della was livid. She had no desire to have the kids grow up anywhere near her. She swore to her brother that she would never speak to him again if he took them. If he adopted them. He was so torn. She didn’t have to raise them so what was the harm? He didn’t even have to tell them that they were her kids. She could have been “Aunt Della.”

She had dropped him when he filed the papers. She signed the boys to him and only glared at him as she did so. He had made his choice, and boy was she angry that she wasn’t who he had chosen. Why did she resent the boys that Donald loved with all of his heart? So much so as to drop the twin that she was ever so close to. He couldn’t fathom the thought. The triplets irked him and annoyed him almost every single day of his life and they were certainly the reason he looked as old as he did, but they were still his boys.

Donald blinked again. The back of his eyelids reading “3:10AM.” He needed some water… and a new pillow from the hall closet. Even hours after his raging began, the duck felt no penance. He felt just as angry and jostled as he had watching the boys get rejected. His face was still burning a bright red and it felt almost as if his stomach was to it’s boiling point. It wasn’t fair. None of this was FAIR! He did everything he could to keep the boys safe. He did everything he could to raise them, care for them, and make a family for them. Yet, they still get burned at Dumbella’s dumb words. They had never seen her in their entire lives, why did they have to recognize her? None of this was even his fault, why did he have to deal with this? It’s not like he had ever even wanted kids. The thought had never even crossed his mind. When he was younger, just before the triplets existed, all he wanted was to be able to relax every single day, go fishing or golfing whenever he wanted, and mellow out at home with Daisy. He never expected to have to drag three goblins behind him.

With fists still clenched hard, the duck stood to his feet. His jaw was wired shut and his eyebrows were as low as they could go. Those boys were perfectly good enough for him, why couldn’t they be for her? He stomped audibly out of the bedroom and straight for the kitchen mumbling incoherently to himself. Turning into the kitchen, Donald almost missed noticing his nephew sitting on the barstool at the counter. Dewey turned abruptly having heard his uncle enter and rubbed his eyes quickly. He stuttered for an apology at the grumbling duck before him, “I-I’m sorry. I tried to sleep. I really did. I just needed to think. A-And I’m sorry for not listening to you-“

Donald felt his fists loosen dramatically and his eyebrows reclaim their usual spot as he pulled out the stool next to the teen. He sat himself next to the shaking duckling, looking anywhere but at the apologetic face next to him. “It’s okay, Dewey. I’m not mad.”

“W-Well, yes you are,” the younger duck responded. The look on his face one that you’d think he’d just heard his uncle speak a foreign language.

After a pause, Donald dropped his chin into his hand and sighed deeply. “What I meant was, I’m not mad at you. Or your brothers.”

Nodding, Dewey rubbed his eyes on his pajama sleeve, obviously trying to hide any more tears. He was failing, but he kept it up because he just was so embarrassed to let anyone see him cry. Donald had done what he could to teach the boys right from wrong, but he never could teach them to express their emotions in a healthy way. He couldn’t even teach them that it was okay that they had them in the first place. He was horrible at sorting out his own feelings and only ever felt awkward trying to comfort anyone.

As the clock ticked, Dewey’s cries were nearly silent, but the shaky inhales and common sniffles were all but discreet. Donald stood from his chair, his nephew now watching him confused, and headed into the kitchen, around the island separating them. He grabbed two cups and ran them under the tap before sliding one to Dewey and reclaiming his seat. Donald took a long drink, feeling his nephews red and puffy eyes still glued to him. Setting down his glass, Donald stared ahead of himself. “I’m so glad you boys came into my life.” After a pause, he added “Even if she wasn’t.”

Trembling and face scrunching tightly, Dewey’s shoulders were rocking as he gripped the counter. Though he was still trying to avoid it, he was racked in sobs. Completely helpless to the sudden flood of emotion. Donald quickly looped his arms around his nephew for a tight hug, which Dewey accepted instantly. His fingers were like vices on Donald’s shirt, but he let everything else go. He drowned out his own cries with rhetorical questions of why she would have left them, why they weren’t good enough for her, and why she didn’t want them. His words were nearly unintelligible through the hiccups and sharp breaths, though.

Completely unsure of what to do, Donald just let his nephew cry into him. He wanted to help him, he wanted to console him, but what could he possibly say or do? They certainly were good enough. To him anyway. Who cares if anyone else wants them around? Donald sure wanted them. And he wouldn’t want them any other way.


End file.
